


White cloth

by Izzylike



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 02:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4246203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izzylike/pseuds/Izzylike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Morsov who spots her amongst the Wretched — shiny and chrome, malnutrition aside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White cloth

**Author's Note:**

> Because I always write gen fics for the longest time while filling prompts from kink memes. 
> 
> For the prompt [Cheedo/Morsov, she's shiny and new](http://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=422850#cmt422850)
> 
> I'm working on a lot of trash fic right now, but if you want to send me a prompt I can try and write it.

It's Morsov who spots her amongst the Wretched — shiny and chrome, malnutrition aside. The newest member of the War Rig wants only to prove himself -- he is _not_ a Pup -- and to please Immortan Joe if possible. Surely a potential breeder will please the Immortan. He shouts up to stop the lift before he leaps back down, the Ace snapping something he can't fully make out. The Wretched are quick to move out of his path, almost falling in their attempts to get away. Those who do not are shoved away by him. 

She moves out of his path as well, eyes filled with terror. He grabs her wrist, holds it tight so she can't escape. Her wrists are nothing like he's touched before, soft and slender enough that his finger overlap on themselves. She cries out but doesn't fight him, going limp as be begins to drag her to the now lowering lift. Huffing, he throws her over his shoulder. She weighs almost the same as a War Pup about to become a War Boy, though her height rivals his own. 

It's when they approach the lift that she begins to struggle. Her limbs flail as she tries to find purchase, strangled cries sounding from her. Morsov shifts to keep a hold on her, doing his best to keep her still but not bruise her. If she is chosen as a breeder, he won't be the one to tarnish the chrome. She doesn't seem to understand the luxury that may be bestowed upon her.

She stops as suddenly as she began, going limp yet again. Gentle, keening crying is all the sound she makes as he finally steps onto the lift. They continue as the lift rises yet again, his fellow War Boys grinning at what he's found.

So shiny.

He is rewarded for his find. Extra water fills him.

So chrome.

He dreams of her.

Hair like an oil slick.

Of all the War Boys, he found the Immortan a Wife. 

So it's a wonder as to why he remembers her crying the clearest.

He meets her again when Imperator Furiosa spirits the Wives away. Morsov has always trusted his Imperator. He would die for her. Live for her. Stave off Valhalla a while longer to be of service. They spirit the Wives away. 

Only to return to the Citadel in the end. 

She'd cried when she saw him, child's tears rolling down her face as sobs slipped past her lips. The Wives had pushed him away -- the willowy blonde haired one had hissed, snapping her teeth at him as if to bite. 

He keeps away from her after that, keeping as many bodies between them as he can. He trusts his Imperator. She must have made the right choice. 

He will not waiver in the belief that Furiosa did what was best. 

A black thumb in his time, he returns to the shops, teaching Pups when he can. Fixing what he can get his hands on or taking the parts when he can't. 

He does not dream of oil slick hair since the return.

He does not dream at all most nights, fearing he has cast himself too far below to ever reach a promised land. 

They have all washed their war paint from their flesh, purging away the physical reminder of their god-king.

Working on salvaging parts, it's the sudden flurry of whispers from the Pups that tells him something is off. Standing straight to get a view of what it could possibly be, he sees her. She is the only one to stay in the white cloth that once signified that she was a Wife, feet always bare. 

Pups flock to her, chanting her name in breathless voices, arms raising to her in wonder. 

She reaches out her own arms to touch their heads lightly as she passes. She smiles to them.

When she sees him, she freezes. Her eyes widen and her mouth opens just enough to release the air from her lungs. 

He makes an attempt to slink away, to avoid her.

But she pursues. 

He cannot meet her gaze and notes she has grown taller than him since he brought her from the Wretched.

Lead is in his gut as she stands not an arms length away from him with her oil slick hair. Ice is in his veins.

So shiny and chrome.

Her lips part as she begins to speak, simple and clear. 

"I forgive you."

He falls to his knees before her, breathless. His hands find their way to her skirts as he gently holds them. He weeps, and her slender fingers ghost over his shaved scalp.


End file.
